


Dawn

by janelane93



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 08:37:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19720102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janelane93/pseuds/janelane93
Summary: Pietro Maximoff is a man on the move. Until he isn't. SUPER short and absolutely no plot.





	Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, please be gentle :)

Pietro Maximoff hated sharing a bed. He hated having another person draped all over him, pinning him down and stopping him from moving. He needed to GO, he needed to be able to get up and move, and he hated a body pressed against his, wrapped around his, holding on to him, preventing him from being able to GO.

He was Quicksilver. He was fast. He was always in motion, moving at a faster pace than the rest of the world. His natural state was movement. He liked to GO, not STAY, and being in bed with someone else meant he had to STAY. It meant he had to lay still. To stay in one place for hours and hours which to someone who moved as fast as he did felt like days, like eons. How could other people be still for so long? How could anyone just lay there, not moving except for snuggling farther into the covers and settling deeper into inactivity? How did people sleep so damn long? How did they not explode?

Pietro also hated cats. A dog laying on you or near you didn’t stop you from getting up. You’d just get up, the dog would get up, or lay back down, and let you move on with your life, literally. But a cat – a cat had some supernatural gravity field which sucked larger objects in. If you tried to get up with a cat laying on you, it resisted. It wanted you to be as lazy as they were. It protested if you tried to leave. It wouldn’t cooperate. You had to explain yourself to a cat if you wanted to get up. You had to *apologize* to it.

He hated sharing a bed and he hated cats and what he especially hated, he thought moodily as he watched the sun rise with excruciating slowness outside the window, was sharing a bed and having cats on him at the same time. It was torture. It was something that the UN should be investigating. This had to be a human rights violation. He had been stuck in one place for almost six hours with a person and cats all over him and he HATED IT.

The sun finally reached the horizon, throwing vivid pink and orange streaks across the gray sky outside the window and painting the bedroom with dappled light. The orange cat, the one nearest him, who had been pinning his left leg down all Goddamn night, blinked his eyes open and regarded Pietro with infuriating calm and no indication whatsoever that he intended to get up. Asshole.

He hated these things so much but there was one thing and only one thing he hated more. He hated, absolutely DESPISED, the faint trace of surprise in Remy’s voice when he finally awoke and sighed happily as he opened his demon eyes to smile sleepily at Pietro and ask, “Y’stayed?”

Of course he stayed. He always stayed. Because as awful as being still was, leaving Remy was worse.


End file.
